


Peach-gold

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Smut, Keith wears glasses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: The Holt siblings aresuffering, and it's all because of their stupid best friends that, for whatever reason, refuse to confess their undying love for each othertoeach other.





	Peach-gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strippedpink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strippedpink/gifts).



> Written for a Sheith Kink Meme prompt (as well as a gift for a dear friend):  
> Alternate universe with Shiro and Keith who have been best friends for years. Shiro is a popular TA rooming with his other best friend Matt, Keith is a talented student whose other best friend is Matt's younger sister Pidge. They can't shut up about the other in front of their friends.
> 
> For whatever reason either Keith or Shiro needs glasses (preferably Keith) and the other can't get over how hot he looks with them. Could be that he always needed glasses but preferred wearing contact lenses. Matt and Pidge despair over the two idiots (Bonus for disaster gay Shiro because his reaction in season six to older Keith was gold).
> 
> If there's smut I'd love for the glasses to stay on. Any reference to their size difference is a big +++. Maybe Keith naked wearing only his glasses and Shiro in contrast with most of his clothes on? Please keep the angst to a minimum. I love angst, especially Kangst, but I'm in need for lots of fluff.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Shiro will walk into the classroom to find a cup of coffee and a pastry waiting for him on his desk. It’s a  _thing_  that the students in his class came up with at the beginning of the year – they take turns buying the coffee and the pastry, and no one has missed a day for the past two months. Shiro thinks it’s cute (and more than a little excessive), but he doesn’t have it in him to tell them that his heart has already been won.

“Good afternoon,” he says, letting the door close behind him. He’s never late, but his students are always early. On the desk sits a latte and a muffin (?), the latter slathered with so much cream cheese frosting that not a single inch of the muffin itself shows through.

He looks up and immediately locks eyes with a grinning Keith – he’s the only one in this class who knows that Shiro is weak for cream cheese frosting. Fighting back a laugh seriously tests his willpower, but Shiro manages by clearing his throat and distracting himself with his ever-lagging laptop.

“Does anyone have questions from your lecture earlier today? Professor Wimbleton told me that he had to rush through the last few slides, so if there’s anything you need clarification on..?”

Tutorials are only an hour long, so Shiro always does his best to get through all the questions. It’s hard to do so, however, when some questions are redundant or simply unnecessary. He’s not dense – half of the questions he receives are just meant to get him talking, because his students really like hearing him talk, for some reason. Keith is the only one who stays silent throughout the tutorial, occasionally scribbling down notes when he’s not busy laughing at Shiro’s plight. The boy is smart, easily one of the top students in his year, so Shiro willingly lets him have his hour of entertainment.

As always, time passes by quickly and it’s not long until Shiro dismisses the class.

“You didn’t finish it,” Keith says with an exaggerated pout, gesturing at the half-eaten muffin from where he’s perched a few rows away.

“Keith, the amount of frosting alone is enough to last me for the rest of the day,” Shiro laughs, packing away his laptop. He doesn’t throw the muffin away though, instead opting to keep it safe in its paper bag for later.

It’s always so easy being around Keith. They’ve known each other since Keith’s freshman year, having met through the Holt siblings. Keith caught his eye instantly, what with his mop of jet black hair, piercing eyes, and long legs swathed in skinny jeans. But back then, Keith was quiet and kept mostly to himself, and for the longest time, Shiro was half-convinced the boy hated him.

It wasn’t until Pidge brought up the fact that Keith was having trouble making friends and adjusting to life in the big city alone did Shiro understand. Pidge herself couldn’t do much for Keith – their schedules clashed horribly and she would go back to her family home every weekend, leaving Keith to fend for himself most of the time.

So Shiro decided to step up. He took Keith around the area, pointed out cheap restaurants and bars, let him in on a few campus secrets (if you hit the vending machine on the second floor of the science building really hard in the bottom right corner, something  _will_  drop), and introduced him to a few of his own friends.

As days blended into weeks, Keith began to warm up to him. Shiro still remembers vividly the first time Keith laughed at something he said. Years later and Keith is a senior, Shiro a grad student, and they’re practically inseparable. It really isn’t too surprising that Shiro might have fallen a little (a lot) in love along the way, is it?

Pidge is already waiting outside by the entrance to the building, deep in conversation with Hunk about some piece of computer equipment she’d seen in the store over the weekend.

“Hey,” Pidge says when she catches sight of Keith. “Can you  _please_  reply to Lance’s texts?”

“But he’s  _annoying_ ,” Keith grumbles. “He wants me to go to that stupid house party just because he’s too scared to be around Allura by himself.” Eyes narrowed, he rounds on Shiro. “Hey, Allura is your friend – can’t you convince her to go on  _one_  date with Lance just so he can stop bugging me about her 24/7?”

Pidge exchanges a look with Hunk that screams  _hypocrite!_ , but Shiro doesn’t notice, too busy explaining to Keith that he’d already done so and that Allura simply doesn’t go on dates unless she really wants to.

“Look, I’ll go with you,” Shiro offers.

Instantly mollified, Keith pulls out his phone and types out a quick response to Lance. Pidge can’t help but roll her eyes.

 

 

 

  
The sole of his right shoe is sticky, and Keith grimaces with every step he takes. It’s ridiculously crowded, college students spilling out of the confines of the frat house, and the scent of weed is  _everywhere_.

He’s in the kitchen, trying to get himself a drink strong enough to take away the dull buzz of irritation that inevitably comes with going to a frat party while sober. There’s someone screaming in his ear, and Keith really wants to sink a fist into the frat boy’s nose. When he finally gets his drink – 80% alcohol, 20% mix –, his friends are nowhere to be found.

“Wonderful,” Keith mutters, swiftly sidestepping a fresh puddle of puke on the floor. Whoever’s in charge of cleaning up this place will be facing a monumental challenge when the sun rises.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes of navigating for Keith to finally spot Shiro in one of the rooms, pressed up against the wall with a bottle of beer in his hand as he chats with Matt. God, he looks good. Snowy hair, facial structure chiselled by the gods, illuminating eyes and a kiss-worthy mouth… and Shiro’s  _still_  clueless as to why he’s got half the student body keeling over for him.

He’s three steps into the room when someone accosts him, a bold hand pressed against the small of his back and stale breath flooding his face.

“You got a fine ass there, I’d –”

Keith slams his elbow up underneath the guy’s jaw, half-hoping that he’d bite his tongue off. The cry of pain that reaches his ears is a beautiful symphony.

“Leave me alone, asshole, and grab a mint while you’re at it.”

He walks away, anger fading away instantly when he sees Shiro’s gaze trained right on him. Matt whispers something into Shiro’s ear and the latter shakes his head, a small wrinkle forming between his brows.

“– doesn’t need me.”

“What?”

“Matt said I should go beat that guy up,” Shiro tells him, “but I said you can handle yourself and that you don’t need me.”

“While that is true, I wouldn’t mind if you broke his nose.”

Shiro smiles, all crinkly eyes and white teeth. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Keith has to take a large gulp of his drink just to stop himself from visibly mooning over the man.

Half an hour later sees Matt ditching them for his girlfriend and James coming up to Keith just to trade an insult or two. It’s all in good fun – they’re too competitive (in all aspects of their lives) to let the insults go, but they don’t actually hate each other. Even Keith has to admit that it keeps his creative juices flowing.

It’s nice, squeezed in a corner with Shiro pressed against his side. His drink is almost finished, and he’s slowly crossing the shaky line between tipsy and drunk.

“Oh look,” Shiro says, still sounding perfectly sober. “It’s lover boy.”

“Idiot looks lost,” Keith snorts. “Allura isn’t even on this floor.”

“Not everyone is well-versed in the language of love,” Shiro says wisely, draining his third beer and setting the bottle down where it’s least likely to be tripped over.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Keith teases, looking up at Shiro through heavy lids.

He gets a fond chuckle and a shy smile in response. “I’m afraid not.”

Keith is pretty sure that Shiro’s lying.

 

 

 

  
This is also a  _thing_ , Shiro realises. Whenever the both of them are drunk, they’ll end up under a tree, Keith’s hands cradling Shiro’s face as they nip at each other’s lips. Time slips by easily like this, Shiro’s bigger frame swallowing Keith whole, giving them a sense of privacy unique to them alone. It’s a gentle pressure of lips, timid flicks of tongues, and an overwhelming reverence with the way they hold each other.

His heart stutters to a stop and jump-starts all at once, all of his senses on overdrive thanks to Keith. They’ll drown in each other until the alcohol in their systems start to break down, at which point they will pull away, share an awkward laugh or two, and sit on damp grass for a chat.

By the time their friends come looking for them – Matt for Shiro and a combination of Hunk, Pidge, and/or Romelle for Keith –, they’ll be sober and engaged in thought-provoking conversation (i.e. anything other than this  _thing_  hanging heavy between them). It’s a thing that stupefies their friends, absolutely boggles their minds.

“He’s perfect,” Shiro mumbles longingly, staring out of the window at Keith’s slowly disappearing frame as their cab pulls away from the curb. Matt gags and elbows his best friend in the ribs.

“Seriously, when are you going to ask him to marry you?”

Shiro lets out a strangled noise.

“You know how much Keith adores you, right?”

Shiro lets out another strangled noise.

“I’m going to be telling you how stupid you are for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”

Shiro looks at him sadly, and Matt can’t help but sigh.

A few kilometres away stands Keith. He stares after Shiro’s cab until it turns a corner and disappears from view before hunching over and letting his forehead fall onto Pidge’s shoulder. He groans, perfectly aware of how pathetic he sounds, and he can feel Pidge’s exasperation seep through his bones.

“ _Again?_ ” Pidge laments. “You really need to sort out your priorities. Confessing to Shiro should come  _before_  making out with him on a regular basis.”

Keith hears footsteps crunching over to them and turns his head slightly to watch Hunk approach, looking merry.

“Aw, still hung up over giant cuddly teddy bear?”

“God, please don’t call him that,” Keith winces. Hunk appraises him before giving him a knowing wink, and Keith promptly deflates a little more.

When Romelle finally joins them, they grab a cab of their own and head straight back to the dorms. Keith’s squished between the girls, doomed to seventeen minutes of relentless teasing that he manages to block out (for the most part) by thinking about Shiro’s mouth on his for the entire journey home.

 

 

 

  
It’s a Saturday, and Keith finds himself sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling until his eyes go dry. Fumbling around for his phone, he squints at the screen for the duration it takes him to send a text off to Pidge.

She’s off at some kind of tech convention with Matt and Hunk, leaving Keith with the glorious opportunity of spending the day with Shiro. But instead of capitalising on that, he’s dilly-dallying around doing god-knows-what, fresh out of the shower and still in his underwear.

_JUST MESSAGE HIM YOU IDIOT!!! OH MY GOD_

Why is she his best friend again?

But he ends up listening to her anyway. Chewing on his lip, Keith spends way too long composing a message for Shiro, re-reading it three times just to make sure he doesn’t sound too hopeful. Barely ten seconds after it sends, he gets a reply.

_hey :) i’m at the library doing some grading, but feel free to join me if u want! i could use the company_

Blood thrumming, Keith rolls out of bed, trips over a pair of Hunk’s jeans, and dresses in record time. It’s sheer luck that he remembers to grab his backpack – he would look like a real fool if he spends a couple of hours in a study room doing nothing but staring at Shiro’s beautiful side profile.

He’s out of his room and halfway across campus in minutes, just slightly embarrassed at how excited he is at the prospect of being able to see Shiro. Taking the steps two at a time, Keith steps through the library doors only to run right into Allura.

“Hi!” She says cheerily, arms laden with books. “Here to see Shiro?”

Keith colours spectacularly. “How did –”

“Just saw him,” Allura chuckles. “Don’t distract him too much, you hear? He’s got a lot of papers to grade.” She bids him goodbye with a wink, and Keith’s cheeks flame all the way to the fifth floor.

He finds Shiro nibbling at the end of a red pen, his scar wrinkling cutely with every purse of his lips and furrow of his brows. A soft tap on the glass wall of the room has him glancing up and breaking out into Keith’s favourite smile. He beckons Keith in, clearing a part of the table for him to set his bag on.

“Hi,” Keith says, glancing away momentarily to unearth his laptop from within the mess of his backpack. “How’s grading going?” When Shiro doesn’t reply after a few beats, he looks up in slight confusion. He  _did_  say that out loud, right?

Shiro’s staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Uh, Shiro?”

That sends Shiro into a panic – the man nearly knocks over a stack of papers when he jumps, and red rushes up his neck like waves surging up the shore.

“You,” Shiro says weakly. “G-glasses.”

Oh. Right, he was in such a hurry to leave that he had completely forgotten about putting contacts in. Keith doesn’t mind wearing his glasses out in public, but it’s just a lot easier with contacts (he’s sat on one too many pairs to count). Hunk is the only person who gets to see him in his glasses on a regular basis, and that’s only because they’re roommates.

“Do they look that bad?” Keith winces, reaching up to pull them off. Maybe he has a spare pair of contacts in his bag?

“What -  _no!_ ” Shiro practically shouts, springing up off his seat and lunging across the table to grab Keith’s arm. “No, they don’t look bad at all.” The blush is up to his ears now, and if it were anyone else, Keith would find the clash between the redness of his ears and the whiteness of his hair atrocious. But it’s  _Shiro_ , so obviously it’s  _adorable_.

“You actually look really cute with them,” Shiro mumbles, ducking his head and fluffing his hair to the point where it obscures his eyes.

“Thanks,” Keith croaks. Shiro nods jerkily and returns to his grading, leaving Keith halfway to hyperventilating in his seat.

Mind an absolute mess, Keith fumbles with his laptop for almost a full minute before Shiro interjects gently and tells him that it’s facing the wrong way. Keith doesn’t even have the energy in him to feel mortified.

Shiro called him  _cute_.

Pulling up Messenger, Keith sends an  _omg he called me cute_  to Pidge and stares at the screen until he sees her typing.

_no shit, keith. now stop being an idiot and ask him out._

Keith looks up reflexively and spots a dot of red ink just below the curve of Shiro’s pillowy bottom lip.

“Hey, you have ink there,” he says, tapping the spot on his own face. They, of course, mix up their lefts and rights, and Shiro ends up rubbing diligently at the wrong spot.

Keith laughs, “No, it’s – here, let me get it for you.”

It isn’t until the pad of his thumb is pressed against the underside of Shiro’s lip does he realise the position they’re in. Shiro’s eyes are on him, soft and intent and – okay, Keith’s heart is about to keel over.

“Thanks,” Shiro says when Keith finally settles back into his seat.

It’s so hard to look away.

“Anytime.”

 

 

 

  
Three sharp knocks ring throughout the apartment.

“I’ll get it,” Shiro says, padding over to the door. It opens to reveal Keith, large canvas bag in his hands. “Keith? You’re early.”

It’s a  _thing_  that all of them are a part of. Every Sunday evening, Matt and Shiro will host a movie night. It’s the second year they’re doing this, and everyone does their very best to make it each week.

“I’m here to do my laundry,” Keith confesses, hefting the bag in his hand. “Some asshole refuses to come and claim his clothes – I’ve been waiting for three hours for a free machine, and I just gave up.”

Matt sticks his head over Shiro’s shoulder. “Would you cry if I told you that our machines are in use, too?”

Shiro smacks his friend in the chest. “Take your clothes out of the dryer,” he scolds, stepping aside and waving Keith inside. Pouting, Matt clutches at his chest and makes a show of stumbling over to the dryer, where he begins plucking his clothes out one at a time.

Keith grins at his antics, kneeling down by Matt’s feet as he stuffs his clothes into the washer. The machine whirs to life moments later and Keith slumps down onto the couch in relief.

“I hate having laundry piled up,” he sighs. “I cannot wait until I move out and have my own set of machines.”

Matt perks up at that news. “You’re moving out?”

“Well, I have to at some point, don’t I?”

“If you want a roommate you can take Shiro,” Matt says casually, eyes on the TV screen as he starts another game of Super Smash Bros. “He spends all his time here talking my ear off about –”

Shiro pinches Matt on the arm and relishes in the yell that rips out of his friend’s throat. “Shut up and play, or you’re doing the dishes for the whole of next week.”

A couple of hours later and Keith’s laundry is done, warm and smelling just like Shiro’s own clothes. It’s hard to ignore the flutter in his chest at that thought.

When Pidge arrives, she immediately commandeers Shiro’s controller, leaving him to stare at the food he has in his kitchen cabinets. Keith joins him a few minutes later, leaning his weight against the counter as he picks up a half-eaten bag of chips.

“Lance is bringing the beer,” he says around a mouthful. “Hunk’s probably bringing some actual food.”

“We don’t have buttered popcorn,” Shiro says mournfully.

At that, Keith drops the bag of chips and darts over to where his bag is sitting in a chair by the dining table. When he produces two packets of popcorn with a gleeful  _aha!_ , Shiro thinks he might actually be falling deeper in love. He didn’t know that was possible.

It’s two in the morning when they finally run out of energy for another movie. Allura has to drag Lance out of the apartment, Romelle following with a sleepy Hunk hanging off her arm.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth,” Pidge says with a yawn. She stretches languidly, very cat-like, and ambles off towards the bathroom.

This is also a  _thing_. Whenever they have movie nights, Pidge and Keith will stay the night. Matt takes the couch, giving his bed to his sister, while Shiro shares his with Keith. After months of exchanging silent variations of  _why are they like this_  with each other, the Holt siblings have finally come to terms with it, settling for giving their respective best friends The Look when they finally disperse to go to bed.

Shiro remembers the first time they shared a bed – he was so nervous it took him over an hour to fall asleep, and he would wake up periodically just to make sure he didn’t accidentally steal all the covers or punch Keith in his sleep. But nothing went wrong. Keith slept like a baby, Shiro didn’t steal the covers or flail in his sleep, and they had woken up close enough to feel each other’s body heat.

Fast-forward to the present day and Keith climbs into Shiro’s bed like he’s been sleeping there every night for the past year. It’s a non-spoken agreement that Keith gets the right side of the bed and Shiro the left – now even when Keith isn’t there, Shiro keeps to his side.

“G’night,” Keith murmurs sleepily, tucking a hand beneath his pillow and giving Shiro a sleepy smile.

“Sweet dreams,” Shiro replies, tugging the covers up until it hits the bottom of Keith’s chin. He resists the urge to thumb at the curve of Keith’s cheekbone, rolling over onto his back and shutting his eyes in order to avoid temptation. Keith’s even breaths lull him to sleep, and the last thought he has before he loses consciousness is to make pancakes for breakfast – Keith loves pancakes. Shiro sleeps like a baby through the night.

 

 

 

  
“ARE YOU SERIOUS,” Keith roars, bloodshot eyes snapping wide with anger behind the frames of his glasses as he rises from his seat. It’s three in the bloody morning, and while he’s busy cramming for a test he has in eight hours, someone thought it would be a good idea to set off the fire alarm.

Hunk burrows out of his covers, swipes a hefty hand over his face, and groans.

“I’m going to find and  _murder_  whoever set this damn alarm off,” Keith growls, shoving his legs through his pants and pulling on a sweater. It’s inside-out, but he could really care less.

A knock sounds on their door, and the RA’s unimpressed voice floats in. “Get down to the quad.”

“Murder, you hear me?”

Hunk pulls Keith out of the room without a single word.

By the time they get to where all the students are assembled, Keith’s expression actually looks murderous. Feeling a little panicky, Hunk fumbles for his phone and sends out a quick S.O.S. text.

Fifteen minutes later and Keith’s hands have been curled into fists for so long that Hunk is worried they’ll stay that way for the next three days. He’s also worried someone might very well be on the receiving end of one of those fists, and that’s just not something he wants to deal with right now.

“Keith?”

Oh bless, the cavalry has arrived.

“ _Shiro?_ ” The surprise on Keith’s face would be funny if Hunk wasn’t so tired. “What are you doing here?”

Shiro’s hair is a mess – he was clearly asleep when Hunk had texted – and he’s got pillow crease marks against the curve of his neck. But he doesn’t look irritated whatsoever, not that Hunk expected him to be (considering the circumstances).

“Heard about the alarm,” Shiro says, waving a hand around. “And you told me you were planning on pulling an all-nighter for that massive test you have later today. Came to see if you were doing okay.”

Hunk can see the anger leave Keith’s body in a single exhale. If he weren’t so used to these two idiots by now, he’d be barfing all over the place.

“You came all the way to –” He blinks, as if in a daze. “Yeah, Shiro, I’m okay.”

The fire department clears the building by 3:40, and Hunk is halfway back inside his bed when he pauses and turns to Shiro.

“You stay here,” he says firmly. “I will crash at your place.”

“What,” Keith utters.

Hunk shrugs, “You’ll thank me later.” With that, he grabs a jacket and plucks Shiro’s car keys out of his hands. Dumbstruck, Shiro and Keith stare after his retreating back until the door swings shut behind him.

Suddenly, Keith feels like a fish out of water. He struggles out of his sweater and flops back onto his chair, staring down at his flashcards in a daze. Behind him, he hears Shiro padding around the room, presumably unsure of what to do as well. Then his bed creaks with weight, and Keith glances over to see Shiro sitting cross-legged on his duvet.

“Hi,” Shiro laughs. “Um, I’m not too sleepy right now, so I’m not quite sure what to do. How’s studying? Need me to quiz you on anything?”

Keith hands his flashcards over and plops himself down on a spot on the bed that Shiro’s been petting. It’s a lot easier revising like this, Keith thinks. Shiro’s voice is nice and soft, and information flows out of him like a bubbling stream.

He goes through all the flashcards in less than an hour.

“You’ll ace it,” Shiro tells him, leaning over to set the cards down on Keith’s cluttered desk. He sounds so sure of his prediction that it tugs at Keith’s already frayed heartstrings. “You should sleep for a few hours, at least.”

 

 

 

  
That’s how Shiro finds himself lying on his back, the entire right side of his body pressed against Keith’s. The bed isn’t made to hold two fully grown adults, much less two fully grown adult men. It also doesn’t help that Keith’s shirtless.

“Do you want me to take Hunk’s bed? You don’t have much –”

A hand wraps around his wrist. “No, stay here.”

Eyes tired but mind whirring away, Shiro lies there for what seems like hours until Keith turns around, his fingers still pressing against Shiro’s pulse point, and speaks.

“Shiro?”

“Hmm?”

“Could you keep your eyes closed for a bit?”

Shiro does so, ears perked as Keith shuffles about, and they stay shut until he feels warmth against his lips, at which point his eyes fly open in complete surprise.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time,” Keith breathes, hair in his eyes as he hovers awkwardly above Shiro. “Without the help of alcohol, I mean. Um, I don’t know if you –”

“Oh my god,” Shiro mumbles, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my  _god_.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Keith says, voice small.

“It means I really want to kiss you again.”

There’s a pause, then Keith’s tugging on Shiro’s fingers. They peel away to reveal a smiling Keith, eyes bright and lips looking impossibly soft. Those very lips press against the bridge of Shiro’s nose, right on the fattest part of the scar, and Shiro wants to bury his face into Keith’s chest and scream.

“So kiss me again.”

Shiro sits up and crowds Keith against the wall, heart skipping a few beats when Keith drapes his legs over Shiro’s crossed ones, wrapping around his waist until his heels rest perfectly against the dimples on Shiro’s back. His mind is reeling, but the feeling of Keith’s hands curling into the fabric of his shirt is enough to ground him.

Unreasonably nervous, Shiro leans in and Keith meets him halfway. Parting his lips just enough to fit Keith’s bottom lip between them, Shiro gives it a gentle suck and relishes in the squeak that lodges itself in Keith’s throat.

It’s his turn to let out embarrassing noises when hands suddenly slide up the back of his shirt, skin cool to the touch. Keith’s kisses turn fervent, tongue licking past the seam of Shiro’s lips and into his mouth, effectively turning Shiro in a large human-shaped pile of goo.

“Touch me too,” Keith says, lips moving to the edge of Shiro’s jaw. He kisses a line up to the dip behind his ear, and Shiro practically shivers. Heart flopping pathetically in his ribcage, Shiro runs questing fingers up Keith’s bare abdomen, drinking in the feeling of a toned stomach, tapered waist, and ridiculously responsive nipples. Keith bites down on Shiro’s lip in shock when a thumb brushes across a nub, almost hard enough to break skin.

“Oh shit.” Keith fumbles around beneath his pillow and retrieves his glasses. “God, do that again.”

But the sight of Keith in those glasses, lips kissed bruised and hair a mess, has rendered Shiro completely useless.

 

 

 

  
It’s a great ego boost, Keith has to admit.

“You really like me with my glasses, huh?”

Shiro nods stupidly, a look of utter adoration  _slathered_  across his face. Keith really can’t help but kiss him again.

It’s breathtaking, the way Shiro almost completely surrounds Keith. Just looking at his sheer mass drives Keith dizzy, and sure they’ve hugged before, but it’s so different when he’s got those arms bracketing him in and those large hands on either side of his chest. Shiro kisses him silly, stealing Keith’s breath right out of his lungs only to force it back in when he swipes his thumbs across Keith’s nipples.

“Again,” Keith murmurs against Shiro’s mouth, digging blunt nails into the muscles of those broad shoulders when Shiro complies.

He feels a hand curve around his waist to grip at his hip, and he finds himself lying on his back in the next second with a pillow tucked under his head. Shiro glances up at him as he moves down Keith’s body, stopping to run the flat of his tongue across a straining bud. Whining, Keith grabs onto a handful of Shiro’s deceptively soft hair, dick twitching in his pants when teeth drag lightly across the nub.

Then there are kisses being planted all down his stomach, even one on his belly button.

“Shiro,” he gasps, “I’m ticklish.”

Shiro laughs affectionately, short puffs of warm air across his skin, and Keith is a fucking goner.

He lifts his hips in a silent request, and Shiro catches on immediately, slipping fingers past the waistband of Keith’s sweats just to tug them down. It’s a struggle, trying to kick off his pants while keeping as much of Shiro plastered against him as possible, but they manage.

Shiro spreads Keith’s legs further apart with a hand on the inside of his thigh and dips his head to nose along the waistband of his underwear, inhaling the clean scent of his body soap and the unique scent of Keith’s skin.

Anticipation builds like a cresting wave, Keith unable to take his eyes off of Shiro until he seals his lips over the head of his erection, wetness slowly seeping through the cotton from both ends. Keith moans, head flopping back onto the pillow as he tries not to buck up into the heat.

“Don’t tease,” he manages to say. Shiro glances up at him, amused.

“But foreplay is important!”

“Not when I’ve waited practically my whole life for this moment,” Keith retorts, twisting around in Shiro’s grip to open his bedside drawer. After a lot of fumbling, he finally finds what they need. Except Shiro really doesn’t want to move on just yet.

“Three minutes,” he wheedles, already in the process of ridding Keith of his underwear. Keith doesn’t know if he’s going to  _last_  for three minutes of whatever Shiro wants to do, but saying no to Shiro has never been his strong suit.

He figures that the little cheer he elicits out of Shiro when he nods is worth it though. That thought lasts for a full eight seconds before his brain shuts down – his cock is suddenly in Shiro’s mouth, the head bumping against the back of his throat as a hot tongue presses firmly against the underside.

“Fuck,” he gasps. He’s probably tugging a little too hard on Shiro’s hair, but the man doesn’t seem to mind. Humming, Shiro pulls back and suckles on the head, tongue flicking teasingly over the slit. “I’m really not going to last if you –  _fuck_  – keep doing –  _hnnnng!_ ”

Shiro reaches for the bottle of lube resting by Keith’s hip, slicking up his fingers and smearing the excess over Keith’s entrance. After another glance up at him to check that he is indeed on board with where this is headed, Shiro opens up his throat and takes Keith’s cock all the way down his throat right when he breaches him with a finger.

It’s with sheer determination that Keith doesn’t orgasm right there and then.

He suffers through the prep, fingers fisted in the sheets as he tries to think about anything and everything that will help stave off his orgasm. At least Shiro seems to be having a ton of fun, Keith thinks grumpily, making sure to give the man a (weak) glare whenever their eyes meet. But Shiro just winks at him and curls his fingers – ugh, he plays dirty.

Finally,  _finally_ , Shiro retracts his fingers and rises up on his knees. He makes quick work of his zipper, pulling his jeans down low enough for him to pull his cock out of his boxer briefs. Keith tries, and promptly fails, not to stare at the honest-to-god perfect cock that deities have blessed Shiro with. It’s big enough to make Keith’s mouth water but not big enough to shoot fear into his veins. Foreskin pulls back to expose the head, rosy and dripping, and Keith  _wants_.

“I struggle with taking off these jeans,” Shiro is explaining, taking the condom Keith holds out to him. “They’re quite tight around the ankles, and I’d rather not waste five minutes trying to yank them off my legs.”

“Uh huh,” Keith articulates, eyes still fixated on Shiro Jr.

When it occurs to him that it might be rude to stare, Keith looks up at Shiro’s face and sees a dusting of red across his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he rushes to say. “It’s just – god, how are you actually so perfect?”

“I’m not,” Shiro splutters, but Keith shakes his head vehemently.

“Yes, you are. Now come here and show me a great time.”

 

 

 

  
It’s everything he’s ever wanted and more.

Keith is warm in his arms, mouth soft against the curve of his jaw as he rocks into Keith’s heat. Touching him is a necessity, Shiro thinks, fingers buried into Keith’s hair and messing up those already messy locks. He thumbs crescents across sharp cheekbones, presses kisses to a cute little nose and a smooth forehead. Keith’s moans are quiet, each push of Shiro’s hips drawing out a short puff of air that fans out across Shiro’s shoulder.

He feels the slick slide of Keith’s cock against his belly, each drag of the underside against the material of his shirt sending shivers rippling up Keith’s body. Shiro drinks them all in.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” Keith slurs, fingertips digging into the muscles of Shiro’s back in an attempt to stay grounded. Shiro kisses him for the  _n_ th time.

His orgasm feels like a minor cosmic event. He clings even tighter to Keith when he feels the sweet burn in his gut blossom into something more, and his release is accompanied by the sound of Keith’s moan ringing loud and clear in his ear.

Still very much fucked out, Shiro pulls out dazedly and slinks down Keith’s body to take his aching cock into his mouth. It barely takes several sucks around the head before Keith is crying out and spilling down Shiro’s throat, thighs convulsing helplessly beneath Shiro’s hands.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Keith gasps, eyes still screwed shut from the pleasure coursing through his veins.

Stunned, Shiro lets the cock in his mouth slip out. It slaps wetly against Keith’s heaving stomach.

“What did you say?”

“I said I love you,” Keith says, still breathless but very much coherent. “How could I not? You are always here for me when I need you – even when I think I don’t, you’re so sweet to me it’s honestly a little gross, and you look at me like I actually am the entire universe.”

Shiro almost pulls his hamstring when he scrambles back up to stare down at Keith. Those stupid jeans really do not give him any mobility whatsoever.

“What about you?” Keith asks, thick lashes swooping down and up when he blinks.

“What about –” He sucks in a shaky breath and cups Keith’s face between his palms, planting a wet kiss on both squished cheeks. “Keith, I think I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Keith declares, and yanks Shiro’s face down for a proper kiss.

 

 

 

  
The alarm goes off at 10, and Keith stretches awake to the feeling of Shiro pressed against his back, breaths slow and even as he slumbers. Twisting around, he catches sight of peach-gold light spilling into the room from the crack between his drapes and threading over Shiro’s skin like silk. The man is beautiful, and he is  _his_.

A silly grin spreads across his face, and Keith actually considers skipping his test just to spend more time cuddled up against the big softie lying warm and comfortable next to him. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Shiro, so he carefully extricates himself from Shiro’s arms and tiptoes to the bathroom.

He’s in the middle of pulling on a pair of pants when Shiro stirs.

“Keith?” Voice thick with sleep and an octave or two deeper, it penetrates deep into Keith’s goddamn soul.

“Hi,” he says, one leg in his jeans and one out.

“Are you leaving for your test soon?” Shiro sits up and scrubs at his eyes. He’s got a cowlick just off to the side of his head and it’s so adorable that Keith wants to cry.

“In about ten minutes or so,” Keith replies, finally zipping up his pants. “I want to get some breakfast first. You can keep sleeping if you want?”

Shiro flaps a hand and scrambles out of bed. “I’ll come with you.”

Keith watches as Shiro disappears into the bathroom in nothing but his underwear – some part of him still can’t quite believe that this is real, that this happened, that Shiro spent the night in his bed (he hopes this will be another  _thing_ ), and that  _Shiro loves him too_.

Suddenly, he remembers something. It takes him a few minutes to hunt down his phone, but once he’s got it in his hands, he sends Hunk a very emphatic  _THANK YOU SO MUCH._

Hunk simply replies with an _oh thank GOD._

_do you have a shirt shiro could fit in_

_…………….. check my second drawer_

_THANK YOU_

Keith manages to unearth a hoodie that will contain Shiro’s shoulders, and he offers it to him when he exits the bathroom, looking quite refreshed.

“What’s this for?” He takes it and flips it around in his hands.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was a little worried about you having to wear your shirt out, considering all the stains that are on it.”

It’s amazing, how quickly Shiro flushes a bright red. “Right, uh, I didn’t really think about that.”

“Which is why I’m offering you this,” Keith says, trying hard to hide his smile. “Should fit you good enough.”

Shiro gets dressed, and when the hoodie is tugged on, Keith verbally mourns the loss of a sculpted back and rock-hard abs. That brings another blush to Shiro’s cheeks, and Keith can’t help but lean over to kiss him long and sweet, heart singing when Shiro pulls him close with hands that fit perfectly into the dips of his waist.

“We should get going,” Shiro says in-between kisses, “you should eat before your test.”

“Okay,” Keith agrees, nipping at his bottom lip.

It’s ten minutes later when they finally break apart and scramble to leave the room, Keith laughing at the state of Shiro’s hair as Shiro tries to help Keith zip up his backpack.

Shiro walks him right to his lecture hall and wishes him good luck with a soft press of lips on lips. A student standing nearby drops her phone in shock.

“You’ll do great,” Shiro says, brimming with confidence and affection.

Keith believes him.

When he turns to head into the hall, Shiro stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Love you. Text me after?” With a smile, Shiro turns and strides down the hallway, blending into the throng of students until all that Keith can see of him is his head of shocking white hair.

Keith soars.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Some little tidbits:  
> 1) Shiro is a political sociology TA! Yes, Coran is the professor XD (I picture Keith to be taking sociology as a minor, and James is his rival in all things academic).  
> 2) [This](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Shared-Apartment-Plan-600x450.jpg) is Shiro and Matt's apartment.  
> 3) They met when Keith was a freshman and Shiro a junior. So now Keith is a senior and Shiro's in his second year of graduate studies!  
> 4) Shiro + Matt, Allura, and Lance all live off campus. Keith + Hunk and Pidge + Romelle live on campus.  
> 5) It's up to you if Lance and Allura get together in the end :P  
> 6) When Pidge finds out about Sheith, she flips her shit and is all "WHY WASN'T I THE FIRST TO KNOW I HAD TO DEAL WITH THIS FOR YEARS"
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine) I'm also on Twitter @sheiganes_!


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